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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441959">I wish i’d lived a little longer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Face/pseuds/Mirror_Face'>Mirror_Face</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thinking about coping [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, kinda abstract, post-killing game, thoughts, vent - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:55:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Face/pseuds/Mirror_Face</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chiaki sat in place, under mounds and mounds of rotting, corrupted code. She sat there thinking, pretending that she could come up with fantasies.</p><p>Wishing that she was alive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thinking about coping [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I wish i’d lived a little longer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/gifts">sunflower_8</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here it is. The end, the finale. It's come only a day after Akane's because this vent has been sitting here for a week and I consider it to be my best, so I got impatient. </p><p>This entire series has been so enjoyable to write, and I've forgotten how much I love writing character pieces. I guess this series has become some huge source of pride of mine. Isn't it odd how my least known works always are the ones I'm post proud of?</p><p>And, sunflower_8, sorry if I'm spamming the 'gift' mechanic a bit too much, but in all honesty, what better way to end this series the way it started, as a gift to you? (maybe this entire series can be counted as a gift? I would if it were an option) Thanks again.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chiaki was buried so deep under, below such large heaps of corrupted code. It felt like swimming in oil, clinging to her skin (not really there, but there was no better way to describe the code that made up her abstraction of a body)- thick, yet light at the same time. She knew that she could never get back above to the surface, since the game she was tethered to hardly even existed. Just corruption. Thoughtless, mindless corruption that spread as swiftly and effectively as despair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(she’d once referred to herself as dead before remembering that she was never alive in the first place)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was rather boring, doing nothing in her forever abyss of corruption. Chiaki didn’t exactly mind, but she did often long for a game to play (though the desire to do anything was odd considering the nature of her existence). But she would never get a game to play, so she compromised with pretend. She pretended she had a handheld console in her hands and would close her eyes. She wouldn’t play (she </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>), but Chiaki could imagine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, that got boring surprisingly fast. She was getting homesick (was that the right word to use? She didn’t know anything else that she would classify as ‘home’- nowhere to go back to), and wisps of palm trees and the ocean scent started to invade her imaginings of video games. The voices of her friends (was she allowed to call them that- she didn’t even know if they remembered her), played in her mind constantly. And then even more often as time went on. 24/7, though time didn’t matter where she was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so, she spent less time pretend-playing games and spent more time watching the heaps of code above her, imagining that they were stars. Thinking about what everyone else was doing above in reality. She hoped they were okay. (And an even more selfish part of her hoped they could remember her existence, if only just a little bit.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chiaki wished she could be there with them, on those lovely beach shores and beneath the bright, warm sun (so different from the dark abyss that she laid in). She wanted to touch the sand, to prick her fingers on the tree frays, to feel warm life underneath her hand as she rubbed a cow’s back. The sound of her friend's laughter would be there. Maybe they would play games together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chiaki wished that she was real again (even though she never really was).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wished that she could’ve lived a little longer (even if she had always been dead).</span>
</p>
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